Chapter 5 - Blood on the Iron GatesThe silence in the dining room shattered into a million invisible pieces.
Camila shot out of her chair so fast it scraped loudly against the marble floor. “Aiden? With a gun? That’s impossible! Aiden’s a floor manager, he’s... he’s sweet, he wouldn't even hurt a fly—”
“People are rarely what they pretend to be in the daylight, Camila,” Lorenzo interrupted, his voice cold as ice. He stood up, towering over her, buttoning his suit jacket with sharp, calculated movements. He pulled a sleek, heavy-weighted black Sig Sauer pistol from a concealed holster beneath his arm, checking the magazine with a practiced, terrifying click.
“Stay here,” Lorenzo commanded, turning toward the double doors.
“No!” Camila grabbed his arm before he could take a step. Her fingers dug into the heavy fabric of his sleeve. “Don't hurt him! Lorenzo, please! He doesn't know what he’s walking into. He’s just... he’s just stupid, he’s trying to be a hero—”
Lorenzo looked down at her hand on his arm, then slowly raised his dark gaze to meet hers. There was no jealousy in his eyes now—only a terrifying, absolute certainty.
“I don't kill boys for being stupid, Camila,” Lorenzo said quietly. “But if he brought a gun to my doorstep, he isn't playing the hero. He’s playing a very dangerous game of suicide.”
With a gentle but immovable twist of his wrist, he brushed her hand away and walked out into the hallway, followed instantly by Vince and four heavily armed guards.
Camila couldn't just stay in the room.
Panic clawing at her throat, she ignored his command, darting out from the dining hall and following the sound of heavy boots echoing down the grand stone corridor toward the front entrance.
When she reached the massive glass foyer, the heavy front doors were standing wide open.
Outside, under the cold, misty Chicago drizzle, the scene looked like something out of a nightmare.
Aiden stood past the threshold of the grand portico, soaked to the skin, his normally neat blond hair plastered across his forehead. But the easy, charming smile was completely gone. In its place was a manic, twisted grimace.
And in his trembling right hand, he held a black, snub-nosed revolver, pointing it directly at Lorenzo Moretti.
“Let her go, you Italian bastard!” Aiden screamed, his voice cracking with adrenaline and raw, unhinged fury. “I know what you are! I know what your family does! You think you can just snatch people off the street? Let Camila walk out right now, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in your chest!”
Camila stopped dead in her tracks behind a marble pillar, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. Aiden? Carrying a gun? Knowing who Lorenzo was?
Nothing made sense anymore. The sweet, coffee-bringing, cupcake-praising floor manager was gone. In his place stood a stranger with wild eyes and a shaking trigger finger.
Lorenzo didn't even flinch. He stood out in the open rain, hands relaxed at his sides, stepping slowly toward Aiden with terrifying calm.
“You’ve been watching me for a long time, haven't you, boy?” Lorenzo’s voice cut through the rain, low and steady. “You didn't just happen to apply at Sterling & Co. three months ago. You didn't just happen to like her pastries.”
Aiden’s face twisted further, his finger tightening visibly on the trigger. “Shut up! Shut your mouth!”
“You’re an operative for the Russo syndicate,” Lorenzo continued, taking another slow step forward, closing the distance between them. “Sent to infiltrate my supply chain, find a weakness, and take me out from the inside. But you couldn't get close to my compounds. So you waited, hiding in a high-end catering company, hoping I’d eventually show up for a private event.”
“I said shut up!” Aiden screamed, his voice reaching a hysterical pitch. He pulled back the hammer of the revolver.
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“NO!”
Camila screamed, bursting out from behind the pillar and rushing out into the freezing rain before anyone could stop her.
